August
30th
It’s
a windy morning. The trees are swirling
outside of our window. Its cloudy but I
don’t think it is going to rain. My mind
as well is swirling. I have the cloudy
post-call feeling of lack of sleep plus the desire to process more than I am
capable of, but I don’t think its going to rain. Two nights ago, our first night in our home
it almost did rain… from my spirit. We
arrived at about 2pm, were picked up from the airport by a woman who works for
SEED--a very welcome face. She had
provided a minivan to transport our 8 50lb sausages to our home. Walking through the door, uttering the
words “we are “home” was a relief. Micah asleep more soundly than I have ever
seen him, christened his bed with drool and Liam walked toward the corner of
the living room, hiding his eyes dripping with tears. Our home is spacious. We stood in a large living room, and looked
around at the dining room, kitchen and three bedrooms. We have four living room chairs, a dining
room table and chairs and three beds. Our
settling guardian K from SEED had brought for us some pillows, sheets and three
small blankets, some milk, bread, peanut butter, water and cookies.
Though
we had arrived, it was no surprise to me that Liam was emotional. In a hug I asked him what was wrong “I miss
home.” I am not sure what brought on the tears at that particular moment;
perhaps it was the home that is grey and white concrete floors and walls. Perhaps it was scene out the window for which
he had no context. Perhaps the bars on the windows and guarded gate to the
driveway or the people standing outside our house waiting for work. Perhaps at that moment he was thinking of
friends and family at home who he was not going to see in 10 months or the
familiar places in Seattle that would be only a memory for what at this point
would be an eternity. Whether it was one
or one hundred reasons, my heart broke for him.
And the only response that I could think of was “I miss home too
Liam.” I hugged him, he wiped his tears,
smiled at me and embraced me. I could
feel him communicating, and then he said “we are going to be okay mommy.” After a few still moments of looking around
the house, it was time to go back out to pick up some more staples. Bill stayed with the sleeping Micah. Given his face pale with fatigue and eyes
still moist, I nearly did not ask Liam if he wanted to come shopping. To my surprise he jumped at the
opportunity. To “Shoprite” and “Game” we
went. Through the dull roar of shoppers
and under the fluorescent lights of a warehouse sized store we filled our cart
with everything from a bucket (“which always come in handy” per K) to utensils,
a pot and some more food. We changed
money, bought a SIM card and 3 hours later headed back home before going out
for an Indian meal with K.
Over
dinner we discussed K’s work in Uganda and her understanding of my work this
coming year. She had met with Martha and
Luckson with whom I will be working and had just been with the other SEED
volunteers Allana and Jessie in Mangochi.
She spoke of the clinical work of a family doctor in Malawi and the expectations
to take call including for surgical OB.
She alluded to the fact that I might need to “brush up on my c-section
skills.”
Before
our head could fall on our pillows we had to put up the mosquito netting which
we did successfully for the boys and unsuccessfully for us. Our heads were covered by a wedged drape
leaving the rest of our body covered only by a small blanket and the collapsed
net. Mosquitos, music, mosque calls and barking dogs rampaged our night and
sleep was not successful. Day number
three of very little sleep, surrounded by unpacked bags, a mind full to
capacity with insecurity about my upcoming job here, I was emotionally ready to
pack up and go back home.
Two
things have been exceptionally helpful in the lead up to this: One is “just keep swimming” – Dory from
Finding Neimo. It is hard to know what
to do next when there is so much do to and so much that is ambigious. The second is Liam and Micah. Not only has their resilience far exceeded my
expectations, but they seem to have joy without cause. What is more striking is that my perception
is that the purpose of their joy is for me.
A
series of events have taken place over the past 24 hours which has cleared some
of the stormy weather of insecurity and uncertainty from my spirit. I had a meeting with the two Family Medicine
physicians in the College of Medicine.
We had dinner with a seasoned SEED volunteer who is our neighbor and we
had tea today with a Dutch family who is starting their third year with three
children. Liam found his match with a 12
yo blond lover of everything football and Micah with a fellow bug lover. Bill and I so enjoyed their company, admired
their garden and chickens and soaked up invaluable information ranging from
paying your electric bill to buying a car, to obtaining “bundles” for data, voice
and messaging (all using separate codes), to the social interactions between
Malawians and Expats in Blantyre. In
Blantyre, one does not rely on Google maps or the yellow pages, everyone knows
someone who does the job or can get the thing.
People know what shops to go to and which shops are closing for a 5 week
period of time. I feel like an infant
trying to learn the rules of being an adult in less than a week. Everyone has been so incredibly generous
assisting us but we are bound to make a lot of mistakes before we feel
confortable with life in Malawi.
Though
it seems that the Hutchinson family has a sense that feeling at home in Blantyre
is within reach, doing what I came to do still feels distant. In two days I will begin with an orientation
required by the Malawian medical counsel.
This entails working in each of 4 departments (medicine, Peds, OB/GYN,
surgery) for 1-2 weeks each. The hope is
that after the orientation I will be a candidate for a license and start the
role of being an assistant to the faculty in the department.
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